Three
by ShadyNinjaProductions
Summary: Emilie Zwingli is the Victor of the 33rd Hunger Games. Drabble, Gender bent Switzerland and Liechtenstein. May improve on it later.


**A oneshot on the Hunger Games. Crossover with Hetalia.**

**Kind of a drabble? May fix later.**

Three had always been my lucky number. I was born on the third of March. I lived in District 3, lucky for me because compared to the other districts, I didn't have it so bad. It was bad, but it could have been worse. I had three friends. Which, was all I needed. Even if I couldn't really call Roderich my friend. Francis and Feliciano weren't the brightest as far as I could tell, but they were good people and were fairly tolerable...when Francis wasn't getting handsy and Feliciano wasn't cutting through my yard in the middle of the night. Most importantly, I was three when my little brother was born.

Fisnik was my world. So sweet and humble. Gentle. That kid wouldn't hurt a fly. Which was what worried me. I took all the precautions. I didn't allow him to take tessarae...and well, in reality, that was the only precaution I could take. I had hoped maybe he'd be lucky. His name would never be drawn. Maybe he'd be older and stronger when it hypothetically did happen.

Never did I think it would be his first time.

He was twelve.

How was I to know...?

"Ladies first~!"

I remember taking a deep breath and shutting my eyes in anticipation, just wanting the Reaping to be over.

"Isabella Carriedo!"

And then I let out a sigh of relief. I felt guilty for it, but still. Someone had to look after my younger brother.

"And now for the boys..~"

He had only been twelve at the time. It was his first year...I didn't think...

"Fisnik Zwingli!"

I was stunned. I stood there struggling to inhale, to exhale. The name echoed...or at least it seemed like it.

My brother...

Then I caught sight of him... Trembling, he seemed just as shocked as I was... but he was moving. I was a girl. He was a boy. I couldn't take his place...

Still, I had found myself moving towards him, reaching out.

"Fiz...?"

He froze in place.

"Fiz?!"

It comes out as a strangled cry. I shoved my was through the crowd, but Peacekeepers were already moving to push me back into the crowd.

Until the words come out of my mouth...

"I volunteer as female tribute!"

The escort looked surprised.

"Well then, Isabella, what do you think?"

Isabella. I knew her now. But back then...

She nodded. Pushing a strand of mahogany hair behind her ear, she hurried off stage.

I passed her when I went to hold Fisnik's hand. He was waiting for me. Giving me a grateful smile, she hurried back into the crowd.

But I didn't do it for her.

Had we been friends back then...maybe I'd have been upset...but...

Volunteering was something I'd only do for my brother.

We had interlocked our fingers...went up on stage.

The escort asked my name...

"Emilie Zwingli..."

"I bet that's your brother."

I had merely nodded, pulling him into a protective embrace. I'd already had a plan in mind.

I was going to help him win.

Suicide when I was sure we were the final two...

…...If only...

Fiz didn't even act like we were being shipped off to our possible deaths. At first, I'd thought he knew my plan and had total confidence in me. But then I realized...

When he came to my room that night sobbing...

Just like when we were at home... He was putting on a show. Smart of him. Wanting to appear strong.

I still remember...

Living in District 3, we never experienced the fine food of the capitol. Sometimes we didn't even have food.

Fiz enjoyed the train ride...I did too for the most part.

Then came the chariot rides.

We again held hands, mainly because I had been afraid he'd lose balance and fall.

Such a protective sister I am.

So where did I go wrong?

Was it when I glared at that tall Career with the big nose?

What was his name?

Ivan?

Watching reruns of the Games, I saw that he had been done in by the District 10 tribute. Alfred.

Alfred..

What if I had agreed?

When Fiz and I had been in the Training centre...

I recall being asked to join the Careers for my shooting.

I hardly ever missed.

Bulls eye. Each. Time.

"Lose the kid though."

…..Fiz would have been dead at the bloodbath had I agreed to that alliance.

But what about...

"I could help. I'm strong."

Alfred was strong. Strong enough to kill a Career...

…...I felt so guilty.

I remember trying to sound neutral about it.

"We don't need your help. Thank you anyway."

Then he told Fiz to call him if we needed him...

And of course...My little brother agreed.

The interviews... Fiz said I was his biggest strength. He went on and on, talking about what a great sister I was...

My little brother...

"She always protects me. People say she's mean, but she's really nice to me. And she's strong too.."

If only I had been Fisnik.

Maybe I could have protected you.

The bloodbath was horrible.

Thirteen dead.

Go figure.

I managed to get Fisnik and myself out.

We almost stuck it out...

Yeah, we made it to the final five...

This is where I messed up...

This...

That girl from District 6...

Felicia was her name...

Her blood was on my hands...

"We've got company."

How could I have been so stupid?

"Arm yourself."

He wouldn't hurt an ant! Or a fish! How could I expect him to...

…..I had jumped over the wall of the crater we were in...

And she rolled back in...

She stabbed him in the spinal cord...

And...

Suddenly, the best thing in my world...was gone...

I stabbed her to death...

At this time...

Alfred had killed Ivan...

Three of the final five gone...

I found him...

I begged him to kill me...

And he did the same...

Eventually, I caved...I tried to make it painless...but that's..no..

He...

I slit his throat. I watched as he died.

I won.

I came back home and now I'm a victor.

But what's it worth?

My little brother is dead. I killed a good person.

I sit in my home in the Victor's Village.

I stare out the window, bags under my eyes from not sleeping. I had developed insomnia in all this time.

I wasn't fit to be a mentor. That was obvious, my tributes kept dying. My eyes are red rimmed from crying so much.

Why aren't I dead?

Then I remember.

Three is my lucky number.

What irony that I would win the thirty third Hunger Games...


End file.
